Our Win
by MetaphoricallySane
Summary: 'Life on Mars' Gene/Sam slash. When the Gov finally realises that Sam has his uses, he just has to push him to his limits.


"Bastard!"

He slammed his hand down on the dashboard, fist so tight he could choke air, and glare so harsh it could cut through steel. He heard the grit of his teeth through his nicotine-stained mind as he drew a harsh breath, and then slammed his foot to the acceleration, jammed the gearstick into reverse just a second too late as the wheels screeched to obey him before screaming backward.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Sam complained as loudly as the engine, swinging back in his seat to anxiously watch behind them, pedestrians jumping aside as though this was just a daily pastime – dodging police cars.

And funnily enough, with Gene Hunt at the wheel, it really was.

He almost laughed, a nervous chuckle as he caught the dart of Gene's cobalt grey eyes, with his usual devious glisten in the face of danger, before he spun back round and misused the steering wheel as the car panicked and twisted and sped off somewhere else again.

"Gov, it's no use, we've lost him!"

"Stop whining, Tyler," Hunt hissed, and they crashed through a trashcan and watched the rubbish scatter across the hood, skimming up as though into their faces before vanishing, becoming someone else's problem. Smears of beans left their marks, clinging on to the windscreen as they shot off again, winding through the roads, spinning out of control, charging after someone they couldn't see until-

"There, there!" Sam pointed out, lurching from his seat, and not just with excitement but from the sheer force of chaotic driving by an insane driver.

"See, trust the Gene Genie, ha-ha!" DCI Hunt gloated, and as the so-called bastard skidded in his tracks, wide-eyed like a startled rabbit and about as intelligent as one, frozen with fear. The car squealed in anticipation as it tried to stop but Gene already had his door open and shoved shut and was tearing out his police license from his jacket pocket even as the car cruised and crashed into a brick wall and Sam braced himself and the air-bags fizzled and never even opened. He sighed, shook his head once again, before pushing open his now partially-crumpled door and stepping out.

Gene was already pinning the guy against a wall, yelling and spitting in his face as he stammered and struggled.

"Always gotta make an entrance, huh?" Sam drawled. "C'mon, just say your line and let's get him back to the station…"

"My _line_?" Hunt grumbled, turning round, eyebrows jagged downwards, but giving a half-smirk all the same, the fleeting satisfaction of the chase still just about lingering and- no, it was gone. He twisted his fists deeper into the sod's shirt and shoved him back again, leaving him to whimper a little. "Please, do enlighten me, Diana bloody Ross."

"Oh, shall I say it this time, for once?" Sam teased, folding his arms across his chest, hearing his leather jacket creak in support. It was about time he stood up for himself a little bit. "Or do you want to beat his head in first?"

A flicker of a smile, a sadistic twinge of amusement. But just then he did something very out of character. He flashed up his palms as he stepped back, as if showing to his partner that he was going to be sincere for once, but he pouted and scoffed at him, before glaring back at the guy they'd spent all morning chasing. His eyes were darting, like looking for somewhere to escape, and Gene just bore his teeth in wolfish intimidation. It worked. Always does.

And suddenly Sam's plan had been turned on its head. He tipped his own, as if in disbelief, dipping into his pocket, grasping onto the leather sleeve, slipping out his license, striding up to the guy – who seemed considerably less worried, it must be said – flipping it open and grinning as he uttered,

"You're nicked."

Hunt strode into the station ahead of him as always, but this time Tyler was the one with the devilish smirk and the cocky attitude. Chris gave him an easy yet somewhat baffled look, only slightly more confused-seeming than normal, and as always Ray couldn't even fake being pleased to see him. Annie waved at him sweetly from her desk, and he grinning charmingly, but a second later he was nabbed, a hand grabbing onto his collar and tugging him through into the next room and the door slamming shut.

And the next thing he knew he was pinned back to the wall, just as a criminal, slammed still, head ringing and mind spinning, but he'd been here too many times before to still be unnerved. Uncomfortable, yes; his boss pressing hard against him, chest to chest, hips to hips, glares an inch from each others.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

For a second, he was unsure who'd said it. And then his gaze focused and he saw the crease of his forehead. "What am _I_ doing?! You're the one who's dragged me into your office and… locked me in; you realise people already think that-"

"God, Tyler, how many times do I have to tell you; _I'm not interested_. I don't care how many times you tell me it's about skill, not size, I will still _never_want to sleep with you. Got it?"

Sam rolled his eyes, deadpan, uttering, "Do you realise you're the only one who's ever suggested it? Get off of me."

That did it. Caught between the need to get away and preserve his heterosexuality, or the need to pound his bloody face in, he… he stepped back, jaw stubbornly clenched as Sam straightened his shirt collar and cleared his throat, not daring to glance up yet, knowing it would start a war.

"Don't you dare take my bastards away from me," Hunt growled, turning on his heel, pacing behind his desk, ripping open a drawer and grabbing a box of matches and a smoke, fluidly drawing it to his pursed lips and biting the end in anger. "Everyone needs a win, Tyler, and you bloody well took that away from me today."

"What?" Sam murmured, too confused to raise his voice, until the argument stirred in him. "Are you trying to tell me, that unless you beat some guy up, you don't get your… your _fix_? Are you here for the justice, or _just_ the bleedin' violence?!"

He laughed harshly through a veil of smoke, drifting up over his upper lip like a serpent, shaking his head without giving a damn, pacing back and forth.

Like he wasn't fighting today.

Sam narrowed his eyes. Him not beating him up meant one of two things – something was seriously wrong, or he was just charging up his rage.

And y'know what? Screw it. He wanted to _go_. Right now.

"You know what, Gene? I've had enough of your constant egotistical, sadistic, judgemental bullshit. Every time you get to throw a fist in my face I let it go, and yet I try and take a stand and you go off on one and accuse me of wanting to… wanting to…"

His face had slowly been reddening, but now he just blinked, stomped right up to him, dragging on his smoke, staring dead into his eyes, and muttering, "Wanting to what, _Sam_?"

His heart pounded. He took a deep breath.

"I don't want to sleep with you, _Gov._"

He stepped up once more, and he stepped back, glaring up at him, finding the half-plastic wall panel behind his back. His heart racing all the more, like it always did when he-

Lied.

Gene pressed against him once more, such passion of his loathing in his eyes as he snarled and smirked, drew breath as though to- complain or call him some other derogative name, accuse him of something else, something else just as wildly imaginative like, aha, like that fact he wanted to…

What? NO! Sam's mind pounded with screams just like his delusions of the past, yelling at him that he wasn't good enough, didn't want this, didn't realise he-

And then the door pounded. They both glared over in unison, and then Hunt paced away, seeming just as frustrated as always.

Sam shut his eyes, tried to cling to what little he had left of his sanity. This damned place seemed to have taken it all from him, but given him something much, much better – a life. But what kind of life was that when he couldn't understand his own thoughts? They jumbled and spun in a storm of numb emotion as he sighed, painted back his hint of a smile, and strode over.

Roy glanced between them as though accusing them both of the same thing they'd just been bloody well fighting over as he slurred, "Call's come in. He pleads not guilty."

"Not guilty?!" Hunt raged, shoving past him and already stalking off. "We caught the bastard red-handed and sorry-eyed; let's see him plead once I'm done with him! Come on, Tyler! Time for some more of that interrogation you love so much!"

With a huffed groan, Sam clenched his jaw and hurried along after him. Roy scoffed, wondering if Gene needed to bring dog biscuits to work to control that guy. Maybe he needed a collar and leash to match that.

Then he frowned, shook the semi-erotic notions from his doped head, and strode back over to sit on his desk, grabbing a pack of cards from his pocket and shuffling.

The door buzzed with a clunk as he jammed it open with his shoulder and barged inside. The arsonist instantly looked up, the ash still clinging to his pallid cheeks just like his flickering smile as he caught Sam's unsure eye; but what he mistook as sympathy was actually a vague distaste for what he knew was to come. Gene paced past, behind the guy, pretending to be in deep thought as he glanced around at the grimy walls, while Sam dragged out the chair across the desk, as if there was any chance of doing this the proper legal way.

"Got no evidence it was me, huh?" the bloke dared.

Strike one. Literally. Hunt grabbed his neck from behind with his left, swung a fist dead into the bridge of his nose with his right. As the blood burst the arsonist tried to grasp for his face, free himself, but Gene held tighter.  
"We've got plenty of evidence," the DCI growled, "and plenty of bloody paperwork to do unless you confess. We have better things to do with our lives than waste time on you, when either way you're gonna end up in the slammer. So just say the words, and we'll be out of here before you can say 'no, Gov, I don't like my nuts being put in a vice'. Understood?"

With a look of baffled panic he glanced to Sam, as if asking if he was serious. Tyler just sighed, kicked his feet up onto the table, leaned his head back, shut his eyes.

3, 2, 1.

The chair wailed as it was torn round, and another punch sliced across his upper lip, and he whimpered and yelped and attempted the classic, "I didn't mean to do it, it was an accident! I didn't know there were people still in there!"

"It was an office block until you burnt it to the ground, what did you expect to be in there?!"

Strike three. Four. He tried to scramble off the chair but he was forced back down, eyes locked on him, yet still he murmured, "I didn't mean to… didn't… mean to…"

"A feisty one, huh?" Hunt hissed, slamming a fist across his jaw again, cracking and teeth clacking as he keened round. "You lit up four bloody barrels of petrol; that place was brighter than Japan by the time you were done, and you're telling us it was _an accident_?!"

"A-alright, I did it! I wanted to watch the place burn, okay?! But if you knew what that firm had done to me-"

Five, six, seven. But Sam perked up now. Eight. Nine.

"Gov."

"Gov…"

"Gov!"

His head lulled round, blood splattering across his face as he coughed and spluttered, eyes whirling in his empty head. His leather gloves were flecked red as he drew back, jaw clenched and ready to strike again, but his head suddenly turning like clockwork as he seethed, "What?"

Tyler leaned forward on the desk, eyes narrowed as he murmured, "Don't you think we should find out the whole story?"

"No; the guy's a bloody arsonist bastard who burned down an entire building and-"

"And he has a reason for it. What if there's more to this than there seems?"

"What if," Gene grumbled, stepping away from the chair and instead jabbing a finger at Sam, "we've already got the criminal, and you're wasting our time."

"Says the man with blood on his cheek, yeah, sure. We both know why you enjoy the interrogation process."

"If it was any different I'd have quit this job years ago - to get away from you, DCI Miner. Always digging for something else, aren't you?"

"Because there is something else! Just listen to him, will you?"

"No. No I won't. Nor you either."

The door clunked shut behind him and his enraged footsteps echoed all the way out of the building, before Sam could lean forward to the trembling arsonist and say, "Go ahead."

The folder slapped down onto the desk, and his beady eyes turned up to him in mute aggression, as if demanding his apology. Sam just smirked to report, "The company's been laying off employees left right and centre – if our guy hadn't have done it, someone else would have."  
"Bloody brilliant," Hunt grumbled sarcastically. "But does that make any difference to the fact we've caught the bastard?"  
Sam sighed in aggravation and leaned down and closer to him, an inch from him, as if wanting to radiate this logic into him. "There has to be a reason why the boss is doing this. If he knew it'd make him this unpopular, surely he would've let these guys down easy."  
"So some other big business bugger's firing his workers. If that prick was working for me I'd have given him the sack too." And with that he hardened his glare, dead into Sam's conscience, implying. "He's laying them off because he wants to. Leave it alone; we've done our bit."

"But Gene," Sam whispered, and then instantly halted himself. Having said his name he found himself sweating a little. Still being so close to him and- he gulped, brought himself back. "What if there was going to be another fire?"

"Can't be. We've caught the arsonist." Pause. "Shut up. Who d'you want us to run after then?"

Sam almost chuckled, and then sighed and stood back. "I have no idea. _But_ if we can find out a few things about this company, we can find out."

Hunt almost applauded his logic, but instead just rolled his eyes, stood up and grumpily tugged on his jacket. Half an hour later they were stood hands in pockets staring at the skeleton of the building as it towered above them, rods of metal jutting out all over and dust still fighting to settle around it. The DCI kicked the corpse of an oil barrel, snarling in distaste at the scene.

"Great idea, Tyler, going back to a place with no one here…" he grumbled, although more to himself than his partner. He glanced at a scrap of police tape in disdain, sighing to himself. He was never going to admit that maybe Sam was right about this, or anything, for that matter. Especially not what he'd said about the Gov being the only one to mention… that.

"Give me a moment…" Sam murmured, pacing round to the front of the building, or what was left of it, staring up at the singed sign and narrowing his eyes, looking for something that might give him the inspiration. With the building burnt to the ground, what was to happen next? Was something else going to be built here? And then suddenly his eyes widened. "Gov. Gov, I think I've got it."

And Gene, half-glaring and half-smirking back over his shoulder, almost felt proud of him.

The land was indeed for sale, but not on the public market. The office was in need of being torn down, but the owner not willing to pay for the precautions. Firing all his workers meant that the business wouldn't live out the end of the month or until the sale went through, but it was his discovery of the arsonist conspiracy that made it all work out fine for him – he'd get his retirement pay and without lifting a finger, with that added bonus of being called the victim of it all.

If he hadn't been killed in the fire, it would have been-

"The perfect crime," Hunt mocked, rolling his eyes as he dropped the paper onto his desk. Sam stood across from him with his arms folded, beaming with his success. Gene just glanced up at him, daring to show the flicker of a smile. The kid just seemed so happy in himself. The least he could do was offer him congrats. "Alright then, Holmes, you can stop stroking that ego now and get a drink with me."

For a second he just blinked. Sure, the department went to the pub together sometimes but… that wasn't what the DCI was offering this time. Get a drink? With Gov? "I, uh… You're not trying to ask me on a date, are you?" Sam teased.

"I said you can stop stroking yourself," Gene returned, grabbing his newspaper and tossing it across the desk at him, slapping his face before falling into his arms. "C'mon then. I could use a drink."

Tyler decided not to comment on that. Chris and Roy watched the two men stride past, before glancing at one another and snickering, while Chris pulled a fiver from his pocket and lay it on the desk.

"Eh, eh, eh! What about the rest?" Roy prompted, reclining in his chair and chuckling again.

Chris just swung his feet over the edge of the desk and said, "Only when you've got proof that something is going on."

"You're on."

Nelson nodded up at Sam as they both strode over to the bar stools, awkwardly twisting themselves onto them like fixing themselves uncomfortably onto pins and Gene calling for shots while Tyler still glanced over him, wondering what the hell was going on. If this was going to be anything like the time Hunt had been living with him while he was hiding that one time…

Wait, why was he thinking about that again? God, that was long ago now…

"What, too nervous to chat, Dorothy?" the DCI cut into his thoughts. "It's almost quiet without your nagging."

"Ah, nothing to nag about…" Tyler replied with a chuckle, still pleased with himself over that. After all this time it was finally obvious he'd gotten his win, and with Gov going along with it and all! "So I guess you were just humouring me back there, then?"

"As if you're not _funny_ enough," Gene grumbled dryly, drawing his glass to lips with a cringe as the aftertaste stung before it even touched his tongue. He swallowed it back hard, staring down into the crystals as he swirled the spirit around, and then onerously managed, "You did good out there, Tyler. Maybe your painful righteousness could be of use, if you weren't such a pansy to say things more often."

And Sam had almost expected a proper "well done". He lulled his head on his shoulders, at first unamused, and then cracking a smile. "Maybe if you took your head out of your own backside you'd hear my suggestions more often, _Gene_."

"I've heard enough of your 'suggestions'…" the Gov drawled, and now he turned his eyes from his liquor and dead into Sam's. He watched him for a moment with his jaw solid, almost looking aggressive again, but then again didn't he always? Tyler almost flinched under his glare, but held his ground. If he was going to beat him up again… in the Railway Arms and all… in his own _home_…

But instead he just stared at him all the more, into him, through him, until Nelson noticed with a short laugh, saying in his London accent that the guy was drunk already, and honestly Sam wasn't surprised. In Gene Hunt's world, going to the pub was just changing the location where he would indulge in his alcoholism. Shame, really, when Tyler was just thinking he was soberly onto something… but nevertheless, the younger police officer dropped his shoulders before uttering, "Well, I guess we should just both go our separate ways then. New case tomorrow." He twisted off his stool, downed the last of his drink without thinking about it – as truth be told he needed it to calm his nerves – before heading away, but turning back. Gene was still watching him, now starting to look… what, hurt? Sam glanced over him, awkwardly licking his lip and glancing over him before muttering under his voice, "Good night, Gov."

He pushed open the door and headed out into the cold of the night, a soft breeze catching him as he pulled himself into his leather jacket, huddling closer amongst his confusion, wondering what the hell that was all about… but all the same he kicked up his feet and took a few steps along the uneven pavement, with just the twitches of a smile to keep him company and-

"Tyler!"

He stopped in his tracks, sighed deeply, turning tiredly and – and a heavy hand caught his shoulder, gripping tightly and holding him still as suddenly Gene drew himself closer to him and before Sam could even realise what he was about to do he was- his eyes slammed open, a sudden shock and almost anger overwhelming him but all the while Hunt kept bloody _kissing him_ and holding him until Tyler finally shoved him off, staggering back, eyes wide and rage flaring as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, glaring at him in exasperation.

"What the- what the hell are you doing, Gov?!"

"Something I should've done a long time ago."

Once again he lurched forward, only this time with his hand, constricting round his neck and driving up his jaw as he pushed him back to the wall, leaving his prey unsure whether he was about to be kissed again or killed until Gene confirmed the former, without denying the latter; as he pushed his pursed lips to Sam's he kept driving in his thumbs on him, strangling him softly, making the smaller man all the more breathless and helpless to struggle back against him – and after a moment he found he didn't even want to. Others be damned. This was his chance. Against all odds he dropped his shoulders, allowing himself to gasp and in that instant, be dominated by his DCI's tongue twining against his, dragging on his addled mind and drawing out only arousal. Hunt pushed tight against him, too drunk on his lust to care as the headlights rose and froze on them.

The leather gloves creaked around his throat as Gene shifted and finally pulled back, leaving Sam to groan in vague anger at the loss, reaching urgently out for him and seizing his sandy lapels, tugging swiftly and suddenly, enough to make the bigger man lose his balance and stumble into him again, recovering by pounding his fist to the bricks next to his partner's head. Tyler laughed hoarsely between splutters for breath and rolled his head back to the wall in euphoria beyond mankind.

"Jesus, Tyler, don't think this is anything more than what it is," Hunt scolded, although he found himself smiling, eyes frantically darting all over Sam's expression, taking in this unbridled joy of his. Unbridled as yet.

"And then what is it, hm?" the detective asked, purely curious.

And to that the Gov smiled properly, pulling at the fingers of his glove till it snapped off before he stroked his bare hand to Sam's cheek almost tenderly, and whispered, "My _win_."

Somehow or another they ended up back in Sam's rickety bed, Gene constantly onto him, constantly pushing him around such as their relationship had always been only now more physical in so many ways. He would slam him to the wall only to drag him back from it, each time pulling at one item of clothing or another, leaving Sam disorientated and mind still reeling from losing his jacket, his belt, his shirt, his vest his-

"Stop- stop!" he demanded at last, trembling in Gene's grip as he held him by the balls fearfully literally. He cringed as he groaned, shuddering tried to reach out for him. "Gov, please, I…"

He trailed off, expecting himself to be cut off, but for once the DCI was listening to him, and listening with full attention, breathing unsteady and his smirk just flickering on and off like the 70s street lamps. Tyler found himself leaning his head forward, or rather letting it fall to his chest, his thoughts lagging behind even after so long having dispelled the notions that any of this wasn't real. But now everything felt unbelievable once again, like he was going mad again – this couldn't possibly be real. But his fluttering eyes lighted on his own almost-white briefs, and he slowly lifted his head, baffled at finding his boss in- in nothing else but his shorts and his flagging tie and one leather glove. He stared half-wittedly, hearing the echo of Gene's voice telling him there was no badge there, but he hadn't been looking for a badge then and he definitely wasn't now. His superior gave a short laugh, and then a sigh of relief as he uttered, "Alright, Tyler. Nice and easy."

Suddenly all violence dissolved; that one gloved hand stroked up the small of his back and massaged there over and over, kneading into his tense muscles and giving him enough excuse to lean against him, to rest his head on his shoulder, panting and slowly stopping his trembling, fear fading away to his ease in his Gov's arms, and with his relaxation came his desires to be closer to him without worry that at any moment he might_ wake up_. As he rested he pressed his lips to Gene's shoulder, trailing up to his neck, to his ever-so-stubborn chin, hearing his soft grunts of approval before feeling his hands, one hot and the other deceptively cold, slipping down to his briefs – and this time he didn't stop him, in fact urged him on with his gentle nips and licks at his skin, tasting sweat and salt and rage on the tip of his tongue each time. The elastic snapped in agreement before skidding away down his legs to bundle at his calves before he stepped out of them, hazel flecks in his green eyes glistening with pride in himself as Gene's gaze locked downward; Sam sniggered a little, before tipping his partner's chin up with one stiff finger and kissing him again, and this time the superior surrendered to him, let Tyler take the control whilst easing him back onto his bed, the springs clanging in welcome as the stronger man lay himself down without a single complaint, with this, ah, new information to the case… Sam eased down Gene's boxers in trepidation while his boss just watched him, amused and intrigued but somewhat losing his patience, until suddenly he flipped and easily tossed Tyler onto his back underneath him, leaning his whole body to him, skin on skin, heat on heat, catching the blonder man in mid-moan and giving him something else to moan about. Every second they pressed together their skin was burning with the need to be closer, with the want to go all the way, and yet they held back, both of them unsure of themselves when Gene's eyes flickered and narrowed and-

"Shall we, Tyler?" he asked quietly, politely. And for a second Sam just heard his soothing tone, oblivious to the words and their meanings and implications and dangers and- and he hummed in welcome, murmured. And whatever he had said, Hunt took that as meaning enough. "Right then… turn over."

Then it hit him and his eyes widened, as if to question Gene's methods all over again, but the Gov just licked his lips, frowning with his discomfort himself, before his gaze hardened and he said again, "Turn over, Sammy boy."

With one slight nod, he did, awkwardly lifting himself on his elbows and twisting under him, hissing through his teeth as he lowered his hips into the covers, as if he knew the stain would always be there right away. And that was a good thing, that was real, that was the proof that he could keep for his fleeting mind. But as soon as he felt his partner, his boss, his superior officer push against him, the bed creaking with every movement, his thoughts were away with him; he clenched his jaw to stop himself pleading, fisted his hands as he rested his forehead on his forearms, and Gene glanced over him, knew this was something completely wrong for him, knew he shouldn't do this but his body was begging for it, wanting so badly to… and so he grasped his shoulder and his hip, lifting him up by his waist and… and he had to say it. With a cringe and a smirk, he managed, "Hey Tyler?"

"Wh-what?" he breathed, tense and urgent.

And with the twitches of a smile, he finally uttered, "_You're nicked_."

The first thrust sent him into a spasm of shock and pain, the second nearly paralysing him with his own yelps, and then the third crashed through into pure and brilliant passion, every sensation filling him with undying need for this to last as his toes curled and his body flinched and bucked and Gov held onto him tighter and tighter like trying to tame a rampant stallion, at first whispering for him to be quiet, fearing drawing attention to them both, but then realising just how good it sounded, just how full of success it made him feel to hear his partner crying out his name over and over and gasping and groaning and _begging_ and- he bit his lip as he drove forward again, a fourth and a fifth sending them both into frenzies of panting and clawing for each other, the sixth bursting into him with a sparkling agony but such perfect ease and- and then countless beyond that, just going and going and trying to hold on as best they could knowing it would mean the end of this little arrangement, the end of the first case they'd truly worked on together and-

"Oh- Christ- Gov, I can't-"

"D-don't you mean… Gene…"

And one final push struck deep in them both and in a blaze of sudden urgency Sam threw his hand back, swiping at Gene until he caught it, held it tight, driving in his nails without thought and-

"Twenty quid, there, alright?" Chris grumbled, slamming the money into his mate's hand with a grunt of annoyance. Roy meanwhile flicked the greens over with his thumb, chewing on his everlasting gum and beaming widely. "Don't see why we had to stay here though…"

Roy tossed the binoculars over onto his partner's lap and set his hands back to the wheel. "Just training my detective skills, and what did I tell you about it?" he teased, turning the key, spinning round into first gear. "Told you the Gov would go easy on him. All that whining must have gotten through to him."

Chris folded his arms across his chest, glaring out the window, unsure what to feel about all of this. It wasn't exactly a betrayal of his trust by his mentor but… "I really thought Sam might've told me," he complained bitterly.

"Told you what? That he had a thing for the boss? "Ey, Chris, just wanted to chat about Hunt's eyes…" Actually he sounds like that most of the time anyway to me."

"Knock it off, will ya?" Chris sighed. "Let's just head back…"

"Home?"

"Where else?"

"Maybe the station; we could do with some more milk."

"I think they're gonna notice we're snitching it soon enough."

"Yeah but not yet. And I know how much you hate black tea."

"Urgh… alright then. The station, then home."

Gene fell aside, head spinning and exhaustion settling around him like a dark fog that he could only see Sam through, as he glanced at the man next to him, genuinely impressed with him for being… alive. After all that, anyway. He smiled as Sam looked over, eyes ringed with tiredness but thankful to him all the same. With nothing to say, Hunt stood up, stepped away, kicking through the clothes till he found his jacket and fumbled his cigarettes from the pocket, pressing one between his lips and glancing back over his shoulder as he flicked at his lighter till the sparks burst. Tyler meanwhile lay back, hands over his face, wondering what the hell he should feel, until he caught the scent of the smoke when he looked over again, and then paused with a sigh. Gene was glancing around, looking equally uncomfortable.

"Come lie next to me," Sam suggested, and the Gov glanced back, shrugged a little, smiled a tad and idled over, heaving himself back up beside him, even putting his arm round his shoulders and letting his partner lean across onto him, one hand stroking his chest. They stayed there in silence for a long time, until his slow cigarette burnt his fingertips and he adeptly tossed it out the gap of the window without a care.

Tyler almost snickered. He didn't know why he did, but… but it made the DCI smile at him again.

After another pause, Hunt finally cleared his throat, and murmured, "You should, ah, get some sleep. New case tomorrow."

Sam recognised his own words and chuckled a little, before snuggling down, pulling up the covers over them both, indirectly inviting him to stay, and such a suggestion wouldn't be turned down for once. "You too," he reminded, rolling over onto his side facing away, wincing at the aches in his body.

And that would have been that, if it weren't for the elusive conscience of Gene Hunt, who glanced over him again for a second and then… and then he allowed himself the sentimentality to hold him, to draw himself closer once more and rest his lips to the back of his delicate neck, and there, slowly, to drift away.


End file.
